


War Within

by PurpleArrowzandLeather



Category: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, It Was A Dark And Stormy Night, Peter Benjamin Parker Needs a Hug, Sickfic, or....something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 20:21:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21203522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleArrowzandLeather/pseuds/PurpleArrowzandLeather
Summary: Peter Benjamin Parker is achy after a rainy night on patrol. With his luck being what it is, it's no surprise to him when he wakes up in the morning with one hell of a cold. Luckily for him, now there's someone he can call.





	War Within

**Author's Note:**

> Hehehe, I edited this like a sum total of once, but have fun. :)

Peter Benjamin Parker has been alone for the majority of his life. He never minded because he was happier on his own. Most of the time. 

Staring through the dark streets of Chicago, Noir sighs. Since meeting the other spiders, his life on the streets has progressed into lonelier territory. His apartment is bleak aside from the rubix cube on his nightstand. Sure, the gadget on his wrist means he can visit them anytime, but he would hate to infringe on their space. 

Peter sniffs, grumbling a little at the soggy chill in the air. As much as he meant the wind and rain phrase to be a joke, it’s kind of true. What he didn’t tell them is that he doesn’t actually like rain. Honestly, he’s a little embarrassed about his introduction, but he refused to say anything for his dramatics. 

He got attached too fast, an unfortunate byproduct of being by himself for so long. But... he just couldn’t help himself. Now, he’s told them he loves them and they call him ‘Pete’ like he’s part of a family. Like they care. 

He strikes a match. 

Peter can’t help but notice the warmth he feels from it is nothing like what he felt when he was with the other spiders. It’s such a disappointment that he gives up and blows out the match before the flame touches his skin. He aches for them, aches for their company, but he refuses to let himself be seen as weak or needy. 

The Spider is a name he created to protect himself. It’s just a name to hide the shell behind the mask. The one who was so, so cold after Uncle Benjamin died.... He just needed a way to help people, but seal himself off from anyone at the same time. So, Noir was born. 

And Peter? Well.... Peter rarely sees the light of day. Of course, until he came to Miles’ universe, he had no idea what sunlight really was. His world is so dark and bleak in comparison. For the first time in his life, he felt warmth on his face as he stared up at the sky. Peni told him it was rays of some sort, but Noir barely paid it any mind.

Scowling to himself, he strikes another match. Once, he was doing it to feel anything at all. Now he feels too much and he can’t bring himself to do anything about it. 

He shakes the match to put it out before it reaches his fingers again. 

He doesn’t understand why he does it. 

So far, it’s been a long fay on the streets, and usually his matches are a decent source of stress relief. A little bit of control goes a long way. They offer him nothing now. It’s as if the fulfillment in the action has been sucked dry. 

He swings home, feeling trapped more than anything. Everything in his body hurts for no reason at all, but especially his back. Peter could almost ignore it if it wasn't such a persistent ache, so he sheds his coat and mask, slipping into his bed with a pitiful sound. He reaches out for the completed rubix. He doesn’t know how he knows he finished it, but he has. Something about it just seems right. 

Noir clutches the cube to his chest, falling into a fitful sleep. 

When morning rolls around, everything is so much worse. Even dark as his apartment is, everything is too white. His curtains are doing nothing to filter the blinding light into a grey he can handle. His nose is plugged and his head is pounding. It’s the worst Pete has felt in a long time. 

He doesn’t want to move. 

It’s with that awful realization he knows he’s sick. Noir has always hated colds because they always seem to be so much worse for him than normal people. It’s one of those things that just is, and he can’t fix it. 

His head is too warm. Too hot. Everything is too hot. 

Being sick might explain his imbalance on the streets the night before. 

He coughs, the action squeezing his chest like he’s being clenched in the Lizard’s fist. His breaths afterwards are almost gasps. Peter whines, curling on himself. The gadget around his wrist beeps, noting his rising heart rate and temperature. Noir tries hard to resist the temptation of calling one of the other spiders. 

In the end, the effort is impossible. 

As an adult, Peter B is probably the best option, so that’s where he sends his distress signal. Not that Peter knows Noir isn't even legal drinking age....

He’s pretty certain he passes out before he can say anything as a message of any sort, but the idea is there. All he knows is that the next time he comes around, someone’s hand is on his forehead. 

“Oh, Pete. You’re real sick, bud.” 

He’s being called ‘bud’. They’re touching his cheek and forehead. Someone has seen his face. He squirms, pushing against the sets of hands. “_No, no. No, don’t, please. No.” _

“Shh. It’s all right, buddy. It’s all right. Just open your eyes.” When he doesn’t, they grip one of his hands in a way that’s more comforting than he’d say. “It’s just me. Peter B. I got your signal.” 

Peter B. Noir takes a breath. He opens one eye just a crack, the black and white of his surroundings blurry. The only thing worse than that is the fuzzy blob of color he assumes to be Peter B. He’s standing close enough that Noir should be able to make him out, even without his glasses, but he can’t. Noir winces as Peter moves out of the way of the window. 

“Light hurting your eyes, pal?” 

Noir nods, but the small effort makes his headache flair up. 

“Why didn’t you call one of us sooner?” 

If Peter had realized he was going to be this sick, he likely would have stocked up on vitamins he could afford (steal) and toughed it out like usual. He doubts he should tell the older spider that information. 

“Just stay still, Pete. I’ll get you taken care of, all right?” 

“_Mmhmm__._” 

Something cold touches his forehead and he leans into it with a whine. Peter B shushes him again, pressing a hand against his temple. “I didn’t realize you were still so young, bud.” 

Noir murmurs under his breath in response, but Peter merely makes an affirming noise in his throat. He’s humoring the younger man, and Noir knows it. 

“How old are you?” 

“Seventeen.” He shudders, pressing his face into his pillow. 

The cold thing moves down towards the collar of his shirt, swiping at the sweat on his neck. “I’ve got you. Just stay nice and calm for me while I get you moved around, all right?” 

Noir moans as Peter B helps him sit upright, keeping his eyes closed to stop himself from throwing up. 

“You’re soaked in sweat. We’re gonna have to get you into a new shirt.” 

The only response Peter gets is a tired groan. He tries to tug Noir’s arms away from his chest to no avail, the spider holding onto the object in his grip like his life depends on it. 

“You gotta let go of the cube, buddy.” 

He hadn’t even realized he was still holding it. Very carefully, he forces his fingers to relax. They’re so stiff that they don’t want to move. Peter B helps him out, hushing him as he whines at the absence. He’s in rough shape. 

Peter B keeps Noir upright as he sways, guiding him out of the shirt with slow movements. He tries not to wince at how frail the boy looks. Sure, he’s a spider, but he’s_ tiny_. His bones are almost pushing through his skin. Even with that revelation, he continues to move around the boy with certainty, any change liable to get him kicked out. Peter knows how the spider-sense gets when sickness does happen, even if it’s not very often. Anything can be a threat when his skull is buzzing and his body feels as if it’s on fire. 

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” Noir mumbles pitifully. 

“It’s a pretty nasty cold, yeah. Did this hit you overnight? Is that why you called me?” 

Noir nods, leaning against Peter with a heavy sigh. “Thought it was jus’... jus’ the rain makin’ me tired last night.” Exhausted already, the boy sinks more fully against Peter. “Head hurts, B.” 

“I know. I just didn’t realize I’d be needing to bring medication, otherwise I could help you out a little. It wouldn’t do much, but it might help your headache. I don’t.... Well, I don’t want to leave you here alone.” 

“I’ll be fine. You can go.” 

Peter looks at him for a long time. The way Pete said it was almost like... a dismissal. “You don’t want me to stay and take care of you.” 

Pete opens his eyes, and the look is so desperate that the older man’s heart breaks for him. It’s not that he doesn’t want Peter to stay. He wants so much to let Peter in, and it hurts to know that the young man is pushing him away anyway. 

“You shouldn’t be alone.” 

“M’ always alone.” 

Peter tries not to let that shatter him into a million pieces. Just seeing Pete so tired, so small, so _fragile _hurts. Peter remembers dealing with his enhanced metabolism, but he’d never been as wiry as Pete. He always forgets Noir is right in the middle of the Depression. 

Pete shifts away from Peter, but the older spider isn’t having it. He quiets the boy, pushing gentle fingers through the messy hack job he calls hair. Pete whines, leaning into the cool fingers without thinking. “_Why’re you __doin'__ this?” _

“Because I care, Pete. Why would you even...?” 

“_What do you want from me? _”

Peter pulls him back towards himself, quieting him with soft murmurs and comforting words. “I don’t want anything. I’m just trying to help you get better. I’m right here, buddy. I’m right here.” 

Pete shakes his head, wringing Peter B’s shirt between his hands. His spider-sense is humming, different than when he’s in trouble. It says he’s safe._ Like me, like me. _

It’s wrong. It’s wrong for him to have that and give nothing. 

Peter B holds onto him regardless, so he accepts it. He’s still too warm, now that he’s thinking about it, but he’s too tired to try to get away. All of his struggling to not be seen as weak was for nothing. He lays loosely in Peter’s grip, holding back stinging tears as warmth surges through him in a different way. Peter takes notice when he starts trembling. 

“Hey. Hey, what’s wrong, kiddo?” 

He can't tell him or he'll shatter. Pete doesn’t _want_ to tell him that he hasn’t been held in years. He fights back the tears as if they’re accusing him, pressing closer to the elder spider. 

“It’s okay.” 

It’s not okay. It’s not okay. For over a year, people have considered him less than a person. They call The Spider an it, not a him. The Spider isn’t human. He has a place to live, but he has no home. Now, Peter is sitting on the edge of what Pete calls a bed with him in his arms. He’s calling him ‘kiddo’ as if he belongs. 

“Hey, none of that. It’s okay. You belong with us, whether you believe it or not.” 

“_No.” _ Pete starts on a string words - _apologies_, _protests_, _hurts -_ before a broken sob falls from his mouth. 

The older man rubs Peter’s back, ignoring the ridges of scarring and the all too obvious bones of his ribcage. “Come on, Pete. It’s all gonna be okay. You’re just not feeling your best right now.” 

Before he even knows what he’s doing, he’s crying into Peter’s chest. His best efforts were for nothing in his attempt to protect himself, and now the truth is out in the open. Pete is so pathetic and touch-starved he’ll break at a few small promises. He’s fragile. He’s_ weak._

Pete exhausts himself eventually, curled in the warm embrace of his future counterpart. 

“That’s it, Pete. You’re okay, buddy.” 

Without prompting, Peter B picks the scrawny boy up. “Come on. You’re freezing here, and I’m not seeing any spare clothes around.” 

“Don’t own any.” Pete answers, squirming a bit at being treated like a child. 

“In which case, you’re definitely coming with me. I’m going to get you taken care of, all right?” 

As much as Pete would fight it on a normal day, it’s already too late for that kind of thing. Instead, he resigns himself to being carried. Pete told the spiders he loved them. Perhaps it’s time he gives one of them a opportunity to prove they feel the same. 

It’s a risk, and The Spider hates risks. However, Peter Benjamin Parker loves a good experience, and for once, he’ll take the chance. 


End file.
